glass hearts
by cheaterinpink
Summary: she asks him, wide-eyed, choked, if he's referring to her best friend Elena, that Elena, and he just smiles all-knowingly and nods – "but I wouldn't call her that anymore". talk about regret.


**Glass hearts**

**Summary**: She asks him, wide-eyed, choked, if he's referring to her best friend Elena, _that_ Elena, and he just smiles all-knowingly and nods – "but I wouldn't call her that anymore". She broke his heart once, but he's breaking her heart more.

* * *

_Don't ever leave me  
__You don't know what I'll do to myself_

* * *

**l;**

She thinks that if this had been some other world, some other time, things would have been different.

Better.

She might never admit it to herself why he's leaving. With his hands tucked into his pockets, his head tilted downwards, he whispers words she knows can't be true, words that linger in the night's cool mist. And then he's fading into the cloak of darkness. It must easy, since he belongs there.

The lights in the house don't shine quite as brightly as they're supposed to. The food doesn't taste quite as hot as it should. Her father's meaningless chat about work and his car doesn't make her smile and laugh like it used to.

Her bed isn't as warm as it usually is. And, tracing the empty half, she knows why.

She tries sinking into herself, letting other problems cloud over. It suddenly feels like there are no other problems. Is she supposed to feel this empty? She thinks. Is she supposed to feel so mad, like crazy mad, like angry mad?

Or is she not supposed to feel like anything?

She can't stop thinking about what she's _supposed_ to feel. The darkness is all she can see.

In the dark light, it glints sharply and dangerously on the table.

She can't stop using it after the call from Elena that comes after midnight. It's a rush of tornado and tsunami in her ear, and she feels like she should listen but she can't, because maybe her sobs are blocking everything else, and then all the noise suddenly stops and there's a horribly long silence that hangs in the air and after that there's an icy beep and suddenly she's best-friend-less and then her father enters the room, asking _what's wrong, what's wrong_, and she's hiding her tears, wailing _nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong_, and because he's never really known her, never known her at all, he walks away and the action reminds her of what everyone else did to her earlier and what she did to everyone else and she's crying even harder and no one comes and she just can't take it anymore.

She bleeds. And it doesn't even hurt.

* * *

_To be with you again  
__To get you back_

* * *

**ll;**

Dear Damon,

Bonnie here. It's been four days. You haven't called me.

XOXO.

* * *

Damon Salvatore,

Would you grow a brain already? You can't expect me to just –

* * *

_The person you have called is not available. Please leave a message after the beep._

_**Beep.**_

Damon, I need you. If I didn't show that to you before, I'm –_**beep**_

* * *

_The person you have called is not available. Please leave a message after the beep._

_**Beep.**_

D, tell me you'll come back. Tell me, _please_. I want –_**beep**_.

* * *

_BonFire93__, sent at 3.27 am, 17 August 2011_: I'm sorry, D. But I don't understand what I…

* * *

_BonFire93, sent at 3.48 am, 17 August 2011:_ I'm sorry. I love you.

* * *

I'm sorry I love you.

* * *

_This house is too big for one  
__If I let the curtains close  
__This fire will consume my skin  
__Not just rage within my heart_

* * *

**lll;**

"What are you doing here, Bonnie?"

"… You didn't answer my calls."

"Busy."

"I've been calling for six weeks."

"You should have stopped."

"I couldn't. Damon, I –"

"_Don't."_

"- I need you to forgive me. Can't you? We were in love. We are still in love. This is totally unnecessary –"

"Unnecessary? _Unnecessary!_ And you claim to know the meaning of _love_. Every day, you continually prove you're only eighteen."

"I said I was sorry a million times already. What _else_ can I do?"

"Nothing else. So just give up."

"Why are you being so hypocritical? Why aren't you shutting Stefan out of your life? What hasn't _he_ done that _I_ have?"

"You are two different people. I don't love him as much as I loved you."

"Come on, Damon. Stefan is your brother; you'll love him no matter –" A sound leaves her throat. She suddenly gets it.

"He didn't have my heart the way you did."

"… Damon, I –"

"Just get out."

"_Damon_…"

"_Leave_."

Tears. Sound of glass shattering. _**Slam**_.

A single hand brushing a cheek. Stained, wet.

(Hearts are glass.)

* * *

_So even if you've forgotten everything  
__Even if I'm dead to you_

* * *

**llll;**

"Can we be friends?"

He turns his head lazily to face her, feigning slow recognition. She watches desperately as he squints, tilting his head upward. He's silent for a long moment before – "Sure. Why not?" He drawls the words.

She musters up a smile, hesitantly sliding into the seat next to his. He takes his time angling himself to her, while she calls Bill the Bartender for a glass of tequila.

"I'm more of a Bourbon guy," he says. As if to drive home his point, he throws back a shot of said alcohol.

She doesn't have to wonder for long why he thought to say it when she's known it for years. He barely notices her tight-lipped reaction.

"So," she starts, awkwardly. The words jam in her throat, entangling. What comes out is a garbled mess. He chuckles under his breath and she's never felt more childish and small under his cold gaze.

"So," he mocks, laughing throatily, drinking yet another glass. It burns his throat but that's why he likes it.

"How have you been?" she finally gets out.

And he goes on talking for another five rounds of tequila and ten shots of Bourbon about the past five years, talking about his trips to Italy and Singapore and countries she's never heard of, his relationship with Elena (she asks him, wide-eyed, choked, if he's referring to her best friend Elena, _that_ Elena, and he just smiles all-knowingly and nods – "but I wouldn't call her that anymore") that's growing stronger every second, every day, and she keeps a sickly saccharine smile on her face, one that doesn't reach her eyes, and she tells him she's _happy for him, really happy_, but she digs her nails into her knee as she says it. She contemplates patting his arm but chooses to excuse herself to the bathroom instead, where she cries into a box of Kleenex and the person in the mirror is someone she no longer recognizes.

He can hear everything. He just calls for another shot. Bill the Bartender makes sure it's full to the brim.

A drop spills and Bill the Bartender pretends it's the Bourbon. When Damon tosses it back, it tastes more salty than the others.

She doesn't think she can be friends with him. It's not within her ability to. The glass chips a little more, and it's not the mirror, she thinks.

When she returns, he's gone, and she tries to smile and Bill the Bartender tries to see it.

She thinks they might have never been friends. She's kind of glad, since they were never good at being friends.

* * *

_Just stay with me tonight  
__Just hold me tight tonight  
__If you ever loved me_

* * *

**V;**

She sees them at the grocery store and quickly ducks behind a counter topped with dog food. They turn into the next aisle and she can't help it; she follows them.

They're holding hands, swinging their arms as they walk, the girl slightly ahead of the guy. The way he looks at her reminds Bonnie of the way he used to look at her. The ache returns, tenfold. She can see their rings - two lapis lazuli and two diamonds. They sparkle too brightly.

Her heart is still glass, even after all these years. And apparently more breakable.

**-**** Fin.**

**a/n: the 'lyrics' are self-written. i was inspired.**


End file.
